


When Everybody Wants You

by tvlerblack



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Birthday Fluff, ESPECIALLY the heels, Everybody Loves Seth, Fluff and Humor, M/M, even the heels, this is really very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvlerblack/pseuds/tvlerblack
Summary: Seth misses Dean, but he's a little distracted by the fact that apparently everyone on Raw really wants to wish him a happy birthday.





	When Everybody Wants You

_happy birthday, asshole_

Seth, sitting up in bed with his hair hanging in his face in unruly dark tangles, stared uncomprehendingly at the text for several seconds. Then it hit him: _Oh, right, it’s my birthday today._ Distracted by his fury—undiminished even seven days later—over what had happened with Jinder Mahal last week, mostly concerned with making sure Roman let himself rest and heal, and preoccupied with Roman’s birthday, Seth hadn’t even thought about the fact his own birthday was just around the corner.

He had, however, been thinking about Dean. He had been thinking about Dean quite a lot over the last few days, and the text made him smile, the warmth of affection and the ache of longing mingling strangely.

He read the text again and chuckled. Typical Dean; he had sent the exact same thing to Roman a couple days ago on _his_ birthday.

“Well, at least he’s creative,” Roman commented when Seth showed the message to him, and Seth laughed again, so hard he nearly fell off the bed.

He texted Dean in return: _Thanks, jerk._ He almost added _miss you like hell_ , but something held him back.

Dean had called after Raw last week, furious and demanding that Seth stomp Mahal’s stupid head off, ranting about how if he had been there he would have torn Mahal apart, and Seth had just sat there with the phone to his ear, letting Dean go off and thinking about how much he really _did_ miss him. These last couple months had been a whirlwind for Seth, and although he thought he was happier now than he had been in a very, very long time, there was always a certain feeling of melancholy like a shadow over him he could not quite dispel, a sense of something missing.

He felt it more than ever now, sitting here looking at Dean’s message. They had been back together for almost a year now and they’d been able to spend Dean’s birthday together—with Roman as well—but Dean was still rehabbing, there was a show tonight, and there was no way they’d see each other today. Dean would call, of course, like he had on Roman’s birthday, but, well…it wasn’t the same, was it? It was what it was, but Seth couldn’t help feeling just a bit disappointed about the whole thing. It was selfish, probably. Seth always had been a little selfish.

Roman nudged him gently, breaking him out of his thoughts. “C’mon,” the other man was saying, “breakfast is on me. We’ve got a few hours before we have to be at the arena, and you said you wanted to visit that museum, right? Then there’s this place I want to take you, I think you’ll like it, and then—”

…

Seth and Roman parted ways when they arrived at the arena. Seth started down the hall, luggage in tow, the anticipation of getting revenge on Jinder Mahal already quickening his pace and sparking a rush of adrenaline under his skin, but he didn’t get very far before he spotted Kevin Owens and froze in his tracks.

Kevin was rushing headlong toward him with a look of steely determination on his face, clutching a large white paper bag. Seth’s shoulders tensed, unsure what to expect. They’d spoken briefly after the Shake-Up and things had seemed fine—they had ended up exchanging thinly veiled threats in low voices while Sami snored away with his head on Seth’s shoulder, but that was par for the course with them, and Seth hadn’t thought much of it—but what had happened last week had told Seth Kevin was very much his enemy right now, if only because Kevin was _Roman’s_ enemy right now.

Kevin showed no signs of slowing and Seth braced himself for a collision, fully expecting the other man to attack him, although it was unlike Kev to do this head-on instead of ambushing his intended target.

The collision came, but Kevin did not attack him, did not hit him like a battering ram and knock him back into his luggage like he half-expected; instead Kevin stopped right in front of him and slammed the paper bag aggressively into his chest, successfully knocking the wind out of him but no more. Seth, totally perplexed and somewhat in shock, took the bag on instinct. Kevin crossed his arms and stood there, glaring at Seth like there was nothing else in this world he found so abhorrent, not even Shane McMahon, not even _Vince_ McMahon.

“Happy birthday,” he spat out, and then stomped away. Seth stared after him, even more perplexed, and still a bit in shock.

At length, he remembered the bag and opened it. There were half a dozen donuts inside, all different kinds. All his favorite kinds, as a matter of fact.

Seth just stood there blinking for several seconds, and then suddenly he burst out laughing.

“Thanks, Kev!” he called, although the other man was long gone.

…

“Hey, Seth!”

Seth paused, turning around. It was Finn Balor, that big dazzling smile on his face. Seth, as usual, couldn’t help but grin in response. “Hey!”

“Happy birthday,” Finn said warmly, laying a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Got you a little something.” He offered Seth the gift bag he was carrying.

“Oh, thanks!” Seth took it, surprised but pleased. He made to look inside but Finn held it shut, his smile turning a bit mischievous.

“Don’t look until later, okay?”

Seth made a face. “This isn’t another Lego set, is it?”

Finn looked affronted. “That was a collector’s edition, it was ridiculously expensive and we had a blast making it, so shush.” He smiled again. Sometimes Seth found Finn’s smiles as of late to be odd, even creepy; sometimes it seemed there was really nothing behind those smiles, that they were hollow, cold, as meaningless as the perpetual grin of a skull. But now his smile was as warm and bright and sweet as the summer Sun.

“Anyway,” Finn said, “not until later. Got it? I’ll see you around.” He started to turn away, but his hand lingered just a moment, squeezing Seth’s shoulder briefly, and Seth thought he caught a glimpse of something in Finn’s brilliant blue eyes, something he couldn’t quite identify.

Then Finn waved and was gone.

…

Braun Strowman was standing outside of Seth’s locker room. Standing right in front of the door, in fact, like some monstrous sentinel outside the castle in a fantasy tale.

“Um,” Seth said.

Braun just stared at him, arms crossed and feet apart, towering and menacing.

“Um,” Seth said again, standing there awkwardly with his luggage and the bag of donuts and Finn’s present.

Braun took a step toward him. Seth resisted the urge to retreat. He swallowed around the lump rising in his throat. “Um—”

The Monster Among Men scowled, moving closer, closing in, and Seth, ignoring every instinct in him that told him to _run_ , stood straighter and held his ground. He looked up into those small baleful eyes, just daring Braun to try something, because if he did he could bet that he was gonna get _these_ hands, and then they’d see just how monstrous he really was—

“Happy birthday,” Braun growled, and walked away.

Seth blinked.

Well. That just happened, then.

…

Still stunned by the fact that he had actually _not_ just been murdered by Braun Strowman, Seth didn’t even notice the card lying on the bench in his locker room until he tossed his bag down right next to it and knocked it to the floor. He picked it up, feeling more bewildered by the minute.

There was an adorable picture of two Golden Retriever puppies in birthday hats on the front. Seth opened it up. Inside someone had—quite aggressively—scribbled out what were presumably the words “Happy Birthday” and written “ _Bon Anniversaire_!” Underneath was a signature he recognized. It was Sami Zayn’s. The signature was surrounded by doodles of what were probably supposed to be party hats.

He looked at the card for a long moment, brow furrowed, unsure what to think. Then he began to giggle, actually _giggle_ , covering his mouth with his hand to muffle the rather embarrassing sound. This was so unexpected, so absurd, and so unexpectedly and absurdly _Sami_.

Maybe Sami had turned into an asshole, but maybe he hadn’t turned into a _complete_ asshole.

Seth stuck the card underneath Kevin’s bag of donuts.

…

At catering, Chad Gable approached Seth to wish him a happy birthday. Bemused, Seth thanked him. After Chad had departed someone gave Seth a hearty smack between his shoulder blades, nearly knocking the tray out of his hands, and he turned around to see Bobby Lashley, all ridiculous muscles and big companionable smile. He also wished Seth a happy birthday. Seth, even more bemused, thanked him as well.

As soon as Seth sat down, Sunil Singh appeared. Seth stiffened. He had known there was a possibility Jinder Mahal would try to ambush him before their match, and Singh’s presence only meant one thing—that he was about to get jumped, probably from behind, because Mahal was a coward and—

“The modern day Maharaja has something to say to you,” Singh announced in clear, important voice.

…Or not?

“Uh…okay?”

Jinder Mahal, the modern day Maharaja himself, walked up behind Singh. Singh gracefully stepped aside, bowing. Mahal stood there and appraised Seth, dignified and imperial, or at least that’s probably what he thought he looked like. There was contempt in his expression, but it was like he was suppressing it, trying not to let it show. Seth just looked back, confused and still wary of being attacked.

“Happy birthday,” Mahal said haughtily, and left.

Seth stared after him, mouth agape.

Well. _That_ just happened, then.

…

As he was eating, Heath Slater and Rhyno both came over to say hi and wish him a happy birthday, which was nice. So did The Revival, which was odd. Nia Jax called over to him as she passed by, and even Ember Moon paused to make some lunar pun and offer birthday wishes.

As Ember walked away, Seth shook his head, wondering how everyone seemed to know it was his birthday and why everyone seemed to care. Even _Jinder_. Jinder!

It was weird, to say the least.

…

Leaving catering, he found himself right in the path of Matt Hardy and Bray Wyatt.

He didn’t see them at first. Matt was standing on one side of the hallway, arms spread wide and lunatic ear-to-ear grin plastered over his face. Bray was on the other side, half in shadow, his head hung low and his hair a dark veil over his face.

“Seth ROLLINS!” Matt cried, swinging his arms down and then back up in a grand sweeping gesture.

Seth jumped, startled, eyes widening when he realized who exactly he was standing between. _Oh, shit,_ he thought.

“Seth ROLLINS,” Matt cried again, in wild ecstasy, “our CHAMPION over ALL continents! Today is the DAY of your BIRTH, is it NOT?”

“Um, yes?” Seth said uncertainly, taking a cautious step back.

“WONDERFUL!”

“Uh, yeah, sure is.” Seth offered an awkward thumbs-up.

“Wonderful,” Bray echoed, and tittered.

“We WISH you to have a WONDERFUL day on this, the day of your BIRTH, Seth ROLLINS!” Matt proclaimed, waving his arms wildly with each over-emphasized syllable. “The SEVEN DEITIES look down upon you and APPROVE, courageous CHAMPION!”

“Uh…thanks?” Seth really didn’t know what else to say to that.

“Happy birthday,” Bray said, and then both Matt and Bray dissolved into hysterical laughter. Seth, deciding they were probably going to go on like that for a while, just left them that way.

This was quickly turning into the weirdest birthday of his life.

…

Bayley gave him a big hug and a little stuffed dog. Seth _might_ have made a much undignified and decidedly unmanly sound when he saw the stuffed animal, but in his defense it was really, really cute, and it was wearing a tiny version of his shirt.

“I had it made for you,” Bayley said cheerfully. “Happy birthday!”

Seth had to hug her again. There really wasn’t a choice in the matter.

…

Sasha Banks also gave him a hug and wished him a happy birthday. Natalya stopped him to show him a video on her phone of her waving her cat’s paw and saying “Happy birthday, Seth Rollins!” in a high-pitched voice off-camera. The cat didn’t look very enthusiastic, but Seth was willing to overlook that. They ended up having a very long conversation about cats, sharing pictures and funny stories. It didn’t occur to Seth that that had actually been rather bizarre until after he’d started on his way again.

…

Even Alexa Bliss actually acknowledged his existence; she didn’t say anything, but as they passed in the hallway she nodded curtly in his direction. Mickie, who was of course trailing behind her, actually waved.

This really _was_ a weird day.

…

When he saw Bo Dallas and Curtis Axel—the B Team, as they were calling themselves now—his first instinct was to turn and run, but too late, they’d already noticed him, and before he could get far they’d flanked him and he was trapped.

He sighed. “Boys, whatever you—”

“Happy birthday!” they both shouted in unison, ripping open their coats to reveal they were wearing identical white shirts with various pictures of Seth taped all over them.

Seth just stared, utterly speechless.

…

“I hope you’re having a GLORIOUS birthday!” Bobby Roode exclaimed, and Seth, way beyond asking questions at this point, just gave him a thumbs-up.

No Way Jose wiggled by with his eclectic conga line trailing after, proclaiming he hoped Seth had a great birthday and the “fiesta” lasted all night.

…

Seth was humming Jose’s theme and didn’t notice Baron Corbin until he bumped right into him.

“Um, sorry,” Seth said sheepishly. Baron scowled at him. The bigger man stepped closer, crowding Seth, forcing him to back away until he hit the wall and there was no where left to go. Seth held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, really not wanting to get into a fight with Baron Corbin, of all people. Baron glared down at him, upper lip curled in a remarkably wolfish snarl.

Baron said nothing for several agonizing minutes, just glared, and glared, and glared, until Seth was starting to feel more awkward than intimidated. Baron was so close Seth could feel the heat of his breath.

“Happy birthday,” Baron snapped, and stalked away.

Seth blinked, left standing there with his back against the wall and his hands in the air.

“Okay then,” he said, deadpan, to the now-empty hallway.

…

He’d almost managed to get back to his locker room when he was intercepted by none other than the imposing duo of Tyler Breeze and Fandango.

“Well, well, well,” Tyler said.

“What do we have here?” Fandango inquired.

Seth arched an eyebrow. _What next?_ “Hey there, boys,” he said amiably. “Something I can do for you?”

“It’s the birthday boy, Breezy,” Fandango said in that low, raspy voice of his, sidling to Seth’s left as Tyler sidled to his right.

“Hopefully he’ll be gifted better clothes,” Tyler remarked with a disgusted sniff.

Fandango reached down, deliberately and dramatically slow, and pulled out his ticket pad from his pocket. He lowered his sunglasses and eyed Seth up and down, slapping the pad against his palm every few seconds. At length he pushed his glasses back up and declared his verdict. “You’re a fashion disaster, but since it’s your birthday I suppose we’ll give you a pass. Come on, Breeze.” He waved the ticket pad in Seth’s face, as if in warning, and sauntered off.

Tyler gave Seth his own appraisal, nose scrunched up in clear distaste. “Those jeans are _offensive_ ,” he scoffed. “How can you bear to dress like that?” He shook his head incredulously and followed his partner.

Seth looked down at himself, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “But I _like_ these jeans,” he muttered to himself.

…

Seth was on his way to the ring, ready to finally take his revenge on Jinder Mahal—bewildering birthday wish notwithstanding—adrenaline an electric buzz under his skin, when the unmistakable sound of a guitar made him pause. He stood there for a moment, head slightly cocked, listening to it getting closer. There was something familiar about that tune, he thought. It was simple, kind of catchy.

He turned around, and sure enough there was Elias, playing his guitar and drifting leisurely down the hall. Elias wasn’t looking at Seth, just kind of gazing at the ground, as if lost in his own music.

Seth could have sworn he’d heard the song Elias was playing somewhere before, but he just couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, not until the other man was passing right by him. Then recognition hit, sudden and startling.

“Isn’t that ‘Happy Birthday’?” he asked.

Elias gave him an impassive look and continued on, saying nothing. 

…

“This has been the _weirdest_ day,” Seth said as he and Roman made their way back to Seth’s locker room. He was still breathless, coming down from the adrenaline high of the match and the soaring relief and savage vindication of his victory, and the words came out all in a rush. “Everyone apparently knows it’s my birthday, and everyone’s been wishing me a happy birthday. Everyone! Even _Jinder_ did! And Kevin gave me donuts and Sami left me a card and Braun Strowman—hey, are you listening to me?”

Roman was clearly distracted, and very obviously not listening at all, guiding Seth gently along with one hand on the small of his back.

“Sure, sure, of course,” Roman said solemnly, nodding.

Seth gave him a half-hearted shove. “Something on your mind, Big Dog?”

Roman’s face broke out in a grin, like he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Just wait ‘till we get to your locker room. You’ll see.”

Seth regarded him questioningly. Roman shook his head, indicating he wouldn’t say anything, and pulled them along a little faster.

…

“All right, Roman, seriously, tell me what’s going on or I swear—”

Whatever he was about to threaten would never be known, because the words died on his lips as soon as he stepped into his locker room.

Dean grinned at him, familiar dimples and auburn curls, his arm in a sling. “Hey there, Champ.”

Seth just stood there a moment, mouth hanging open. Slowly, in a daze, he passed the Intercontinental Title over to Roman, who took it with a little snort of laughter. Then he practically threw himself at Dean, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck. Somehow he managed to be mindful of Dean’s injured arm.

“Good to see you, too,” Dean said, sounding flustered but pleased. His uninjured arm circled around Seth’s waist, holding him closer.

For what seemed like both a very long time and just the blink of an eye, Seth just held Dean, face buried in Dean’s neck, immersed in his warmth, his scent, his _solidity_. Then it struck him he was probably acting like a love-sick teenager and he pulled back, light color blooming in his cheeks. “Hey,” he said, kind of awkwardly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of Dean completely, hands resting on his shoulders.

Dean’s voice softened. “Hey.” He seemed to hesitate, and then he reached up and brushed back errant dark tresses from Seth’s face. Seth dropped his gaze, lips quirking upward in a small smile.

There were a thousand things he could have said, but he didn’t seem able to find the words. In the end he just asked, “When did you get here? And why didn’t you—?”

“Just this morning.” Dean made a face. “Roman wanted to make it a surprise. I told him it was dumb, this isn’t like one of those sappy heartwarming commercials were a soldier surprises his family by coming home for the holidays, there’s no reason to be so dramatic about it, but you know how Roman is—”

Roman had walked up behind Seth; he slung one arm around Seth’s shoulders and the other around Dean’s, pulling them both in for a brief embrace. “Happy birthday, Seth,” he said, and kissed Seth’s temple.

Dean gave it up and grinned again. “Yeah, happy birthday, Seth.” And he pulled Seth in for a much less brotherly kiss, Roman politely stepping back to give them space.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this the most important thing I've ever written? Yes. Yes it is.
> 
> I literally wrote this entire thing just because I wanted to write a scene with Elias playing "Happy Birthday" on the guitar for Seth. And Ambrollins happened, because yeah. You're welcome.
> 
> Some people got left out, but oh well. 
> 
> Happy birthday, Seth!


End file.
